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KING CLAUDIUS
Thanks, dear my lord.
Exit POLONIUS
O(0), my offence(0) is rank it smells to heaven;
It hath the primal(1) eldest curse upon't,
A brother's murder. Pray can I not(0),
Though inclination be as sharp as will:
My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent;
And, like a man to(2) double(2) business bound,
I stand in pause where I shall first(1) begin,
And both neglect. What if this cursed hand
Were thicker than itself with brother's blood,
Is there not(0) rain enough in the sweet heavens
To(2) wash it white as snow? Whereto(2) serves mercy
But to(2) confront the visage of offence(0)?
And what's in prayer but this two-fold(2) force(4),
To(2) be forestalled(4) ere we come to(2) fall,
Or pardon'd being down? Then I'll look up;
My fault is past. But, O(0), what form of prayer
Can serve my turn? 'Forgive me my foul murder'?
That cannot(0) be; since I am still possess'd
Of those effects for which I did the murder,
My crown, mine own ambition and my queen.
May one(1) be pardon'd and retain the offence(0)?
In the corrupted currents of this world
Offence's(0) gilded hand may shove by justice,
And oft 'tis seen the wicked prize itself
Buys out the law: but 'tis not(0) so above;
There is no(0) shuffling, there the action lies
In his true nature; and we ourselves compell'd,
Even to(2) the teeth and forehead(4) of our faults,
To(2) give in evidence. What then? what rests?
Try what repentance can: what can it not(0)?
Yet what can it when one(1) can not(0) repent?
O(0) wretched state! O(0) bosom black as death!
O(0) limed soul, that, struggling to(2) be free,
Art more engaged! Help, angels! Make assay!
Bow, stubborn knees; and, heart with strings of steel,
Be soft as sinews of the newborn babe!
All may be well.
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